The silence between them was louder than any argument.
Leonard watched Alina retreat to the other side of the room, her back to him, arms folded across her chest like armor. The photo sat between them on the desk, a single glossy snapshot unraveling days—no, months—of fragile rebuilding.
He stepped toward her slowly. "Alina… what do you want me to do?"
She turned, her expression unreadable. "What I want? I want to stop doubting you every time a woman from your past shows up. I want to stop wondering if I'm just a placeholder in your life, someone you married out of duty or strategy."
"You're not—"
"Then prove it."
Her voice wasn't raised, but it struck with more force than a shout.
Leonard's hands clenched at his sides. "I've cut ties with Nadia. I didn't plan that meeting. It was public—"
"That doesn't matter," Alina interrupted. "What matters is that every time I take one step forward, something pulls me two steps back. And you keep expecting me to trust you while giving just enough reason not to."
Leonard ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I'm not perfect, Alina. I've made mistakes, but I'm trying to be different. I thought I was showing that—"
"Then why does it still feel like I'm the only one on the battlefield?"
He had no answer.
The next day, Alina left the manor early and checked into a small hotel in the city with Lily. She didn't tell Leonard where she was going—she needed space. Not just physically, but emotionally. The weight of constant doubt had become suffocating.
Rina met her there that afternoon with a folder full of client designs and a look of concern.
"You okay?" she asked gently.
Alina gave a tired smile. "Not really. But I'll manage."
"You want me to handle press inquiries? There's already speculation about the canceled brunch this morning."
"Let them speculate," Alina said. "Let them think I've gone silent. Maybe they'll forget me long enough for me to breathe."
Rina nodded and left her in peace.
That evening, as Alina tucked Lily into bed, her daughter asked, "Are we staying here forever?"
Alina paused, smoothing Lily's hair. "No, sweetheart. Just for a little while."
"Because you and Daddy are fighting?"
Alina bit her lip. "Sometimes grown-ups need a little space to think clearly."
"Do you still love him?"
The question was innocent—but it left Alina breathless.
"I… I don't know," she whispered.
Lily looked at her with wide, solemn eyes. "I think he misses you."
Alina smiled faintly. "Maybe. But sometimes missing someone isn't enough."
Meanwhile, back at the manor, Leonard was pacing the study like a caged lion. His phone sat untouched on the desk. He had sent four messages to Alina—none of them answered. He had even driven past the hotel where she used to stay before they married, hoping for a sign. Nothing.
He finally dialed Matthew, his lawyer and oldest friend.
"I need to do something," Leonard said.
Matthew's voice crackled through the line. "You're not going to win her back with empty words, Leo. You need to show her you're done living in half-truths."
"I have! I ended it with Nadia—"
"Then why does it keep circling back?" Matthew cut in. "You're not addressing the core problem."
Leonard sank into the chair, staring into the fireplace. "Which is?"
"You're still letting other people write your story. Stop reacting. Start leading."
That advice echoed in Leonard's head for hours.
The following day, Alina attended a charity fashion gala she had promised months ago to co-chair. She arrived alone, stunning in a deep emerald gown that swept the floor like forest mist. Every head turned.
Socialites whispered. Reporters buzzed.
But Alina moved like a queen in exile—distant, poised, and untouchable.
Halfway through the event, Leonard arrived.
The crowd stilled as he crossed the hall in a charcoal suit, his expression grave. He didn't walk toward the press or sponsors. He walked straight to her.
"May I have a moment?" he asked.
Alina hesitated, then nodded curtly.
They stepped into a quieter hallway lined with vintage photographs.
"I know I've hurt you," Leonard began. "And I know sorry isn't enough. So I'm not here to apologize."
Alina's brow furrowed.
"I'm here to promise something," he continued. "That I will no longer let anyone question your place in my life. Not my family. Not my business. Not my past."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a document.
"I've had Nadia's company blacklisted from all future joint ventures with Liang Enterprises. It's done. Irrevocable. I also released a statement clarifying the nature of our final meeting—and naming you as the official CEO partner in our new philanthropic branch."
Alina's eyes widened. "You... made it public?"
"I made it clear," he corrected. "You're not my shadow. You're the light I've been walking toward all along."
For the first time in weeks, something inside her softened.
But it wasn't enough. Not yet.
"This changes a lot," she said quietly. "But it doesn't erase everything."
"I know. That's why I'll keep earning your trust. Every day, for as long as it takes."
Alina looked down at the document. "You think a piece of paper fixes things?"
"No," Leonard said. "But maybe it's a start."
The next morning, Lily ran into Leonard's arms at the manor's front gate.
"You found us!" she said with glee.
Leonard crouched down. "I never stopped looking."
Alina stood behind her daughter, watching the moment unfold.
He looked up at her, hope flickering in his eyes.
She met his gaze for a long beat before speaking.
"We're coming home. But this isn't forgiveness—it's a second chance. Don't waste it."
"I won't," Leonard said.
And for the first time, he meant it with every fiber of his being.
But as they returned to the manor, a new envelope arrived in the mailroom.
This one was addressed not to Alina—but to Lily.
Inside: a photo of a woman holding a baby. The woman looked eerily like Alina—but it wasn't her.
There was no message. Only a date.
And on the back: a single, chilling word.
"Soon."